


A Rueful Reminder of the Past

by TheLadyStrange



Series: Flowers of Love and Death [3]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Animated Movie), Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 16:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17729165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyStrange/pseuds/TheLadyStrange
Summary: Anonymous said:Strange going through Hanahaki disease. Falling in love with who? Up to you, I just want some angst!StrangeThis time with Karl.





	A Rueful Reminder of the Past

       It began unexpectedly, one morning as Stephen stood at the great circular window of the Sanctum, looking out at the world beyond. Birds had fluttered before the window as cars drove by and the sidewalk was full of people going about their lives. And Stephen heard none of it. Experienced none of it.

       The bright summer sun pouring through the glass was no warmer than the fluorescent lights that had filled the halls of metro-General.  The sounds of the outer-world were stopped by the wards about the building and even the electricity of the city was blocked. The lone computer in the study ran off their own passive magic.

       Looking out that window Stephen had realized the only warmth in his life was the Cloak. For it was only when he wore it that he felt the heat of another life against his skin. He nearly wept as he realized how alone he was. As he tried to think about the last time he had felt warm without the Cloak he began to cough.

       It was a tickle deep in his throat. Stephen went to the kitchen and got some tea before heading to the study and its large fireplace, hoping to keep the coming cold at bay. It was two weeks into the persistent cough that he hacked a handful of flowers onto his bedspread and considered it might be something worse.

       The library yielded many books on magical illnesses. And so it was one dark morning that he realized he had Hanahaki disease. Curable, but not for him. For as much as he wished to live, he knew that a life without love would be far colder than he could endure. And no one would ever love him.

       The Cloak was fluttery about his shoulders, anxious for him, and he patted it absently as he looked down at the large book of flower meanings resting open on his lap. He stared at the drawn flower _‘Ruta graveolens, or Common Rue, represents Regret, sorrow, and repentance._ Well, that certainly laid everything down clearly. There was only one love that Stephen had regretted letting go of and Karl had proved once and for all that he had no love for Stephen.

       He closed the book and stared at its unassuming cover as he scoured his brain for a place to hide it. There was only one place that Wong never went these days and Stephen could not hope for a better place to secret away the book. There was the smallest twinge of guilt at his treatment of the book as he wedged it behind the pipe of his private sink in the very back of the cabinet. When he stood it nearly merged with the shadows of the space and he closed the doors with a snap to stare himself in the face. For added security, it was in the mirror dimension and he stepped back into the real world.

       The first of many steps to his death.

       The price was coming due.

       The book had said that death by Hanahaki disease was hastened by contact with the one you loved so he went by the longest recorded instance of the disease. Four years. He had time to ensure that the world would not be undefended when he was gone. Every remaining step of his life was taken with deliberation. He spent time with those few who would miss him and made his peace with them and his past. Spells to suppress his unending cough made his chest ache, but no worse than his hands, he could endure. Illusions carefully cast prevented a single petal from falling in the real world, while the mirror dimension preserved every petal in exquisite detail.

       Stephen spent what time he could teaching the future doctors of the world the knowledge that he had. Preserving the experience he had gained in them. The Avengers learned much of protecting themselves and others against magic. The Compound itself warded and carved with protections that would last far longer than Stephen’s lifetime. The other masters of Kamar-Taj sought to take down Mordo for his crimes against his people, but Stephen never joined them on their hunt.

       The few times he caught sight of the man he would turn away; stepping into the mirror dimension to weep the flowers of a future that never was and never would be. The sight of his love carved days from his life, each mistaken figure in the corner of his eye scratching minutes from his clock, and at last his time began to grow short.

       No longer did he dress in anything but his heavy robes, the vines within his veins like ink upon his paling skin hidden beneath the folds.

       His breath shortened.

       His friends worried about his health, but he soothed their minds with a pale promise that it would be over soon.

       Don’t worry about me.

 

       Karl Mordo stole into the Sanctum, one night, to rob the Sorcerer Supreme of his magic.

 

 

       Only to discover that he had already stolen Stephen’s life.


End file.
